Chapter 2

KAIA'S POV:

The morning feels colder than usual, even with spring creeping in. Maybe it’s the nerves, or maybe it’s the fact that I’m leaving everything I’ve ever known behind.

The thin air outside bites at my skin as I zip up my hoodie and step out onto the porch, my duffel bag over my shoulder. I didn’t sleep last night.

How could I? Between the silence of an empty house and the suffocating thoughts swirling in my mind, I barely managed to close my eyes.

A black SUV, the kind that screams government or someone very rich, rolls up to the curb. Mrs. Jennings steps out from the backseat, her professional smile still intact.

"You ready, Kaia?" she asks like this is a casual road trip and not the dismantling of my entire identity.

I nod, too tired to form a real answer. My limbs feel detached from my body as I slide into the back seat. The door shuts with a dull thunk, and that’s it. No goodbyes, no last glances. Just... gone.

The drive to the airport is quiet, filled only with the occasional sigh from Mrs. Jennings and the soft rumble of the engine.

I stare out the window, watching the familiar city blur into nothing but distant memory. The pain in my chest grows heavier the further we go.

I’m still processing everything and still reeling from yesterday’s truth bombs. Drug trafficking. Adoption. Three brothers I’ve never met waiting for me in a country I’ve never been to.

Canada.

It feels like fiction. Like some poorly written drama. Except I’m not watching it. I’m living it.

We reach the airport, and the process is a blur of security checks, tickets, and Mrs. Jennings reminding me that someone will be waiting for me when I land.

"You won’t be alone, Kaia, they are your blood." She says, but the words feel empty. I’ve been alone for a long time, and no stranger with my blood can change that in a day.

I board the plane with numb fingers and a stomach full of knots. The engine roars to life, and soon we’re ascending through gray clouds and into open sky. I press my forehead to the cold window and watch as the world shrinks beneath me.

*****

The landing feels too fast. One second I’m above the clouds, and the next, I’m stepping into the massive Toronto Pearson International Airport.

People swarm around me with rolling suitcases and loud conversations in different accents. It’s sensory overload, and I feel like I’ve been dropped into a dream I can’t wake from.

A man in a black suit and sunglasses stands near the exit, holding a sleek white sign with my name written in crisp capital letters: KAIA.

I hesitate for a second, then walk toward him. He doesn’t smile.

"Miss Kaia," he says with a slight nod. "I’m your escort. This way, please."

No names. No small talk. Just business.

Outside, a car waits... no, not a car. A freaking Rolls-Royce Phantom, all polished black paint and silent luxury. The kind of car you see in movies or celebrity gossip columns.

I hesitate again.

"Don’t worry, ma'am. You will be comfortable." the man says as he opens the back door. "Your brothers arranged everything." He thinks I will be uncomfortable in a RR? He must be kidding.

Of course they did.

I slide into the plush interior, surrounded by leather seats, high-end tech, and silence. There’s no radio playing. Just the hum of the engine and the city passing us by.

The drive stretches on, taking me away from the hustle of downtown Toronto and into the countryside. Eventually, city streets become winding roads, which turn into forest-lined paths. Trees blur past the window like sentinels guarding some hidden secret.

We turn through an iron gate that swings open automatically, revealing a long private driveway.

Then I see it.

The estate.

It looks like something out of a gothic fantasy novel; massive, elegant, and shrouded in mystery. A mansion with stone columns, sloped rooftops, and windows like glass eyes watching the world.

The surrounding grounds are manicured to perfection, with tall hedges, a fountain at the front, and guards stationed like statues at every gate and corner.

What kind of family needs guards?

Well, this one apparently. And guess what? I found myself inside. Oh, my luck!

The driver pulls up to the main entrance, and before I can open my door, a woman in a black dress with a neat bun opens it for me. She bows slightly.

"Welcome, Miss Kaia. My name is Elena. I’ll take you to your room."

Miss Kaia.

That’s new.

I follow her inside, my boots echoing against the marble floor as we pass through a massive foyer with crystal chandeliers and spiral staircases. Every step I take feels like I’m sinking deeper into a world I don’t understand.

Elena leads me down a long hallway, past paintings I don’t recognize and doorways that look like portals into other worlds. She stops at the third door on the left and pushes it open.

"Your room," she says with a soft smile before quietly retreating.

I step in slowly.

The room is... stunning.

Walls painted in lavender and dusty purple. A large canopy bed draped in silver and plum fabrics. A velvet armchair near the fireplace. Bookshelves built into the walls. A massive window with sheer curtains framing a view of the garden outside.

It’s beautiful. But it doesn’t feel like mine.

I walk around like I’m in a museum, touching the soft comforter, running my fingers along the carved wood of the dresser. Everything feels too expensive. Too delicate. Like one wrong move and I’ll break something and someone will yell.

Old habits die hard.

I drop my duffel bag by the closet and sink onto the edge of the bed, exhaling a breath I didn’t realize I was holding.

This doesn’t feel real.

I close my eyes for a second, just to breathe. The silence wraps around me, thick and foreign.

And then I hear voices.

Muffled, at first. Then footsteps. Heavy ones.

They stop outside my door.

I freeze.

The knob turns slowly and in the next second, three boys - no, men, stand in the doorway. Each one tall, broad-shouldered, and stupidly attractive in a way that makes me question reality even more than I already have today.

The one in the front has intense brown eyes and dark hair that curls at the edges. He wears a fitted button-down and slacks like he stepped out of a boardroom.

The one on the right has wild black hair, a mischievous smirk, and eyes that don’t stop moving. There’s something unpredictable about him.

The one on the left has a hoodie pulled low over his face, arms crossed, with a stare that feels colder than winter air.

They look at me.

I look at them.

No one says anything.

Then the one in front steps forward.

"You’re Kaia," he says, voice calm but thick with something I can’t place. "I’m Rowan. That’s Ezra. And Lucien."

I blink.

"You’re our sister?"

Am I the one he is asking? Do I look like social services?

The room sways. I can’t speak. Can’t think.

All I know is that these three strangers, these three brothers are the key to everything I never knew I was missing.

But I don’t trust this.

I don’t trust them.

Not yet because too many people have smiled at me before pulling the rug out from under me. Too many people have said 'family' and then shown me what betrayal tastes like.

I take a shaky breath and I say the only thing I can think of.

"I guess... I am."